


Rage and Love

by wutshurname



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Abuse, Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Punk, Angst, Drug Use, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Fights, Humor, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Major Character Injury, Mental Breakdown, Mental Instability, Oral Sex, Original Character Death(s), Past Abuse, Punk Direction, Punk Harry, Punk Liam, Punk Louis, Punk Niall, Punk Zayn, Recreational Drug Use, Smut, Vandalism, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-20
Updated: 2015-01-20
Packaged: 2018-03-08 09:47:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3204752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wutshurname/pseuds/wutshurname
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>PUNK. (pungk). adj. </p>
<p>1. in poor condition<br/>2. relating to punk rock and it's associated subculture</p>
<p>Both seem pretty fitting for the five young ruffians trying to make their own way without rules or regards to authority.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rage and Love

Sunlight was more foe than friend to any creature of the night, as Harry learned for what felt like the thousandth time. It crept through the broken blinds and across his littered floor to where he lay, sprawled out on the mattress, the bittersweet taste of cigarettes still on his breath from the night before. He groaned, rolling over onto his stomach, shielding his eyes from the light as he silently prayed for it to crawl back up into the sky. His entire body ached and he was desperate for just another fifteen minutes of sleep. 

But of course, as always the case, there was no luck. Once he was up, he was up. He sighed into his pillow, pushing himself up, his tattooed arms wobbling under the weight of last night’s escapade as they heaved his torso off the bed. Well, if one could call a single mattress thrown onto the floor and dressed with as single sheet a bed. He sat up on his knees, blinking against the awful brightness, his large hands moving over his face before sliding through his disheveled hair. As he came into clearer conscious, he realized the damage done wasn’t as bad as he had expected. A small smirk came across his lips as he rose from his resting place, throwing on a ratty, torn tank top and some ripped jeans. It certainly wasn’t as bad as whatever hell the others would be battling this morning. 

He crept cautiously down the stairs, well aware that someone had most likely passed out on the couch. Or in the hall. Or anywhere, really. They had that policy in the house; “You stay where you fall.” He stepped over one of the many empty cans that lay around the house as he came to the bottom stair. Random articles of clothing and cases that once held CDs were scattered all over the carpet. The place looked like absolute anarchy and the party hadn’t even been held here last night. It’s just how it always was. This was how life was with their crew; a hot hell of a mess. Harry shuffled into the kitchen, expecting, as always, to be the only one up at such an hour, but as he entered the room he could hear the soft murmur of voices coming from the door that led from the kitchen out to the driveway. ”Yeah, no, I’ll give you a call after work babe. I promise. Get home safe, yeah? Alright, love…”

Zayn stood in the frame, holding the door open with one arm as he bid goodbye to some brunette he must have brought back the night before. Harry couldn’t see her face as Zayn leaned in to place a peck on her forehead, but it didn’t matter. He knew probably wouldn’t have to remember her. He stayed as quiet as he could, opening the cupboards to retrieve a box of cereal. Once she had hurried out the door, Zayn closed it behind her, shaking his head as he sighed. Harry leaned against the counter, opening the box and grabbing a handful from it as he said with one brow raised, “I didn’t know you were working today…” Zayn shrugged, scratching at his bare shoulder as he answered casually, “I’m not.” “You’re not gonna call her either, are you?” Harry asked. Zayn let out a short huff of laughter, a sheepish smirk playing on his lips as he shook his head again. “Nahhh.” ”Bastard,” Harry teased, tossing the handful of food into his mouth.

"Who’s a bastard?" Liam came into the room, still pulling his t-shirt over his head. Once he had his head through the hole, he looked from Zayn to Harry and back, as Harry pointed silently to Zayn before digging into the box for more cereal. "Bastard," Liam said, squinting his bloodshot eyes as he he shook his head in mock disapproval, making his way over to the counter and grabbing the coffee pot. "You know, Z. It’s no way to live your life. I’d say it’s about time you find a nice girl and settle on down, real proper like," Liam teased as he began to brew a fresh pot. Zayn snorted, taking the cigarette from behind his ear and placing it between his lips. "Yeah, I will when you all do as well."

Liam let out a bark of laughter, his eyes still on the pot as he fought to focus through his headache. His hands shook as he dropped the grinds onto the filter, his bruised and swollen knuckles straining with every movement. Harry found it hard to swallow as he watched them, a frown coming across his lips as he struggled to hold back his concerns. Don’t say shit, he told himself. One wrong question can create an entire shit storm in this household. “Where’s everyone?” Liam asked, pulling Harry from his trance. He shrugged, popping the second handful of cereal past his lips. “Where do you think?” Zayn grumbled, now fumbling with the lighter he had taken from the pocket of his jeans, trying to light his smoke. With a sure click, it lit and Zayn drew in a long inhale, sighing happily as he felt that first drag. “Still sleeping?” Liam guessed, looking up with one brow raised. Zayn nodded, letting the smoke blow out from his nostrils as he took a seat at one of the bar stools by the counter. “At least, Louis is…” he explained. “Niall didn’t make it home with us last night,” he continued in a teasing voice, swaying a bit on his stool. 

Liam groaned playfully, throwing his head back as he closed his eyes. “And our little soldier falls again…” he sighed. Harry made a face, his mind immediately flying towards the worst as he wondered what that could have meant. “What do you mean?” Zayn chuckled as he looked back at Harry over his shoulder. “Have you seen the sort of broads he goes back with?” Liam rested his elbows on the counter leaning forward as he added, “He’s capable of a good catch, but… he always settles for absolute creatures. It’s like, once he gets his beer goggles on, he can’t even tell what he’s talking to…” Zayn laughed, his cigarette bouncing on his bottom lip. “Alcohol ain’t his friend mate, let me tell you…” Harry shook his head, lowering his gaze to the box in his hands. “You guys are fucking awful…” he mumbled, a shy smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

As if on cue, the sound of a car in the driveway caused all three of them to look up. The system was rattling, a bass line blaring out against the otherwise quiet morning. From somewhere upstairs there was a thump, followed by a frustrated shout. “FOR FUCK’S SAKE.” The boys looked at each other, fighting back their laughter as the music stopped and the car door slammed. Seconds laughter, Niall made his way into the kitchen, his eyes wide, but tired, and his sweatshirt balled up in his arms. “Good morning sunshine,” Liam cooed as Niall closed the kitchen door. “Yeah!” he exclaimed, dropping his stuff onto the table, which was still set up for a round of pong. “Lucky morning, more like it. Managed to make it out before she was even up, thank fucking God,” he said, adjusting the hat that sat backwards on top of his tussled blonde hair. “Payno, please tell me that coffee’s almost set, I’m dying brother…” Niall collapsed onto the stool beside Zayn, resting his head on the cool surface of the counter. “So how was she?” Zayn asked calmly, looking down at his friend. Niall lifted his head, rolling his eyes as he told them “Teethy.” 

The entire room exploded with laughter as Liam clutched the counter and Harry struggled not to spray bits of cereal all over. Zayn shook his head, pinching his cigarette between two fingers. “Nuh-uh…” he gasped between laughs. Niall straightened up, his arms flying out in a wild gesture. “I swear it! I thought she was gonna tear the thing right off, honestly. Boys, I’m telling ya, this is the last time I deal with this shit. No more noobs,” he promised, letting out a huff of breathe. “I’ve been telling you that for ages, mate.” Liam said, pulling the coffee pot of the burner as he began to pour himself a cup. 

There was a pounding of feet on the stairs just before Louis appeared in the doorway, looking absolutely worse for wear. He was pale, his hair standing up at all ends, his septum ring sliding off at a slant. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” he spat, his eyes locking on Niall as he crossed the kitchen. “It’s a fucking Saturday and you and your fucking stereo are out there ready to raise the fucking dead.” Liam smirked, raising an eyebrow as he looked over Louis’s appearance. “Looks like they did just that…” Niall laughed and Louis gave the back of his head a powerful, open palmed smack. “The fuck was that?!” Niall shouted, his eyes widening as he turned to face Lou. Louis opened his mouth to answer, no doubt with some sort of incredibly crude comment, but Liam stopped him before he could have a chance to shoot venom. “Hey, HEY. Give it a rest. None of us want to hear this shit right now, plus, Niall’s just been telling us about his cock’s rather unfortunate run in with a row of razor teeth…” “I could give a shit right now, it’s like eight in the fucking morning!” Lou cried snorted, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “It’s like, noon Tommo.” Zayn pointed out. “Besides, I need you up anyway,” he added, nodding to the digital clock on the microwave. Louis’s eyes lit up like Christmas when he remembered their plans. “Well shit,” he sighed, a huge grin coming across his face as he clapped his hand down on Niall’s shoulder. “No hard feelings, right?” he chirped as Niall rolled his eyes. “What the hell have you too got going on?” he asked curiously. Zayn drew another drag from his cigarette before answering. “Going to meet G.” Louis bounced on his bare feet, his demeanor now worlds away from what it had been when he first walked into the kitchen. “Picking up before Skizz’s tonight,” he added. Harry’s head snapped up, his heart coming to a quick stop as he asked, perhaps sounding a bit too obviously anxious. “It’s Skizz’s tonight?” 

Zayn nodded as he turned to face Harry. “S’that alright?” he asked, a hint of confusion in his voice. “Of COURSE it’s alright,” Louis teased, a wicked gleam in his eyes. “It means that he’ll get to see his little lady friend.” Harry couldn’t help but bit his bottom lip at the thought of her, that girl; She. She, who had completely captivated him from the moment he first laid eyes on her. She was like no other girl he’d ever seen… She was just… She. He’d seen her many times, since She hung around with the same sort of lowlifes he did, yet not once had he mustered the courage to try and speak to her. He wanted to, more than anything, but he just couldn’t. Harry lowered his gaze back down to his box as he mumbled “Fuck off.” “Shit,” Louis continued. “Maybe tonight our boy H will finally man up and get his.” “You’re talking shit…” Harry said softly, still unable to bring his eyes to meet anyone else’s. “Come off it, Harry,” Niall chimed in. “We’ve seen the way it is. I’m telling you, just fuck her. Get this shit out of your system. Then you can move on and quit writing about her in your little black book, Bridget Jones.” 

Again, Liam spoke up, clearing his throat first as he began to sense how uncomfortable poor Harry had become. “Let it be,” he said sternly, sliding a mug over to Niall. “We ought to get going, Tommo,” Zayn suggested, sliding off his stool, putting out his cigarette in one of the ash tray on the counter. “Business as usual, don’t want to be late.” Louis wiggled his brows. “Let me get on my suit and tie, then I’ll be set to go lad,” he said, winking to the rest of the crew before he hurried back up the stairs. “When he’s set, tell him I’ll be outside,” Zayn told Liam as he headed out the door. Niall drained his coffee in a few quick gulps, not bothering to let it cool. “Need a wash…” he grumbled, pinching his t-shirt as he held it up to his nose. “Ugh. Bitch must have perfumed her sheets. This shit is RANCID.” He too left the room, heading towards down the hall to the bathroom, singing something crude at the top of his lungs as he did so. Liam took a long drink, his eyes studying Harry over the top of his mug. When he pulled away, he smirked, asking “And what are your plans for the day, loverboy?” Harry sighed, resting his head back against the cabinet. “Come on, don’t be like that…” Liam said. “Look mate, if you’re really into her, just say something. What’s the worst that could happen?” Harry shrugged, placing the box down on the counter. “Going back to bed…” he grumbled.

Harry hurried up the stairs, running into Louis as he did, who gave him a playful shove into the railing. “Off to stoke one out over your girl, Hazzaboo? Maybe write her another love song while you’re locked away in your little cave?” he called, causing Harry to quicken his pace. As soon as he reached his room, he closed the door behind him. It was crazy how much you could love and hate a group of people so much at the same time. But he guessed that was what family was for… and that’s exactly what the boys were to him. A family. These were his brothers, for better or worse. Through sickness and suffering and even longing and lusting after girls way out of his league, they’d be there. Harry plopped back down on the mattress, closing his eyes as he sighed. From his window he could hear the sound of the van starting up. When Louis and Zayn got back, the night’s festivities would officially began. He frowned, knowing he wasn’t at all ready for this. Just fifteen more minutes of sleep. That’s all he really needed. Maybe that would help him survive Skizz’s.


End file.
